


Revolving

by Onyxior



Category: Original Work, inspired by: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Psychological Horror, excessive use of stage jargon in once place, its a spiral thing (tm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-05-15 02:01:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onyxior/pseuds/Onyxior
Summary: this was done in part for my creative writing class and part because while i hate the spiral as a concept, it takes me no time to write for it.mmmmh also this was written as a vendetta against revolving carousel sets. fuck em, i always get lost in them.See you next time!-Bert





	Revolving

It should not have been this hard. It wasn't like it was a maze, some labyrinth that wanted to twist it self into his mind makes it impossible for him to take more than 3 steps without feeling lost. He would have rather it had been an abandoned hotel with doors and hallways that go on and on. For _Chrissakes_ he was the one who was supposed to be making the map! Instead he was getting lost between curtains and set pieces that, even with every sweatlight and filler on, felt uncanny up close.

The set was only about half painted, with the show (some rewrite or reframe of Shakespeare, there was no real reason to keep track) still months away. But cast and crew alike were getting lost in the structure of the stage, a rotating thing that make set changes so simple and yet- the cues never worked with the set. It always would hit the wrong set. Or the crew would miss a cue and walk to the wrong half of stage and be handing a vital prop to no one. The was a quiet certainty that the director intended to do the Scottish play, and had proclaimed its name loudly in the theater before switching gears to this midsummers madness.

They did, by all rights still have the blueprint for the set, twisted and unruly though it was. All he was supposed to do was map the paths through it level by level so that the rehearsals would stop being marred by lost actors and missing crew.

It wasn’t like anyone had disappeared on gone mad from the revelations and revolutions of the set. He did think there was something _wrong_ with it though, but he could not put his finger on what. A dreamlike set for a dream like play made sense but it felt like there was something trying to draw him deeper, a thread in this labyrinth. A further step left him in a stage made of other set pieces, floating table, marble pillars and writhing arms. A blink, and the set was whole. Like nothing was wrong.

He sat on the black floor, somehow always glittering, with the blueprint and a white marker out. He could not even tell where he was. There, ahead was a flower arch, part of the second set but next to him, the bulk of the scene was a palace, a fair cry from forest scene he was _supposed_ to be in.The silence of the early morning was hungry and ate every sound that he made.

He had gotten there early, before anyone else, to fix this problem that- come to think of it, only he had a problem with. It was still night outside, and it was always night inside the theater. The plush seats and velvet curtains consumed unwanted offstage sounds, where the set and the walls of the house sought to make them loud and impressive. When it is only one man, trying not to break whatever silence exists, it; the hum of the lights and the empty quiet gets very loud. He gets up, frustrated. And goes deeper into the set.

It is a week before anyone else on the crew notices he’s missing. He was an intern, after all, hardly payed and only noticed as a scapegoat. The set stopped moving the wrong way, and the show went on. The reviews said they could not take their eyes of the set.

It was haunting, they said, it would not let me look away.

**Author's Note:**

> this was done in part for my creative writing class and part because while i hate the spiral as a concept, it takes me no time to write for it.  
> mmmmh also this was written as a vendetta against revolving carousel sets. fuck em, i always get lost in them.  
> See you next time!  
> -Bert


End file.
